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viviti
Broken Vines


Where the grass grows most green
And the earth yields fruit in abundance
God is tending vines.

The ones that need most care
Are those that are broken
The ones who cannot see.
His grace.

They still
Have a place In His Kingdom
Who turn their face to wind
Who refuse to drink the rain
Or be healed in sunlight.

Whose wounds are deep
Whose pains are the focus
Of the way they are.
Whose eyes are blind to the sun.

God tends these.
Plants set aside for special care
Still His

To bind the stem and make it whole
Dead leaves must first be cut away.
Rotting branches ripped asunder
Nothing left but the very smallest part
That still holds life.

I guarantee that the human eye
Will not see it till the Heavenly hand
Points to that tiny piece of living wood.
That cannot die.

Pruning to the very heart
Is painful.

All of the rotteness of the heart exposed
All of the hopelessness
All of the things that hurt and make the wood weep
And then become dry and brittle
Become visible, and become more than they ever were.

The foul stench of putrid leaves
Is exposed
Because He has to reach
To the very soul of the pain

We can only mend when we face the pain we are in.


His Hand can only heal
When it reaches deep
When it uncovers the very root of
hurting .

Pulling at the branches only causes them to spring back
It takes the strength of the sharpness of an axe
To destroy the wood.

Healing comes as the plant
Submits to the higher wounding
By His hand.
When finally, all the ways of relieving pain
Make no sense at all and hope gets lost.

When the storm clouds gather pregnant with thunder
Dark sky shadows the sun
And the lightening strikes.

When the flower seems to wither
And die on the branches

Then
Oh then!

When nothing seems left at all.
When to be pulled up and cast away
Seems the human answer

Then
Oh then!

Just a little greenness on the stem
Starts to show
New and stronger leaves
Force their way through the barrness
Dead wood comes away like something unconnected
There is fruit on the vine in the making
There is sun on the stem and there is sunlight in the branches.

One day, grapes that can remember
The day the vine finally shrivelled and died
The day of death, the time they all said
It needs to be uprooted now
Speak to others of ressurection

In the hot house of the Father
Still tended by His hand
Choice fruits are ripened
And fall at the feet of the hungry

HEALING POEMS


The Lord gave me 'prophecy for an abused child for someone who was hurting from the effects of an abusive marriage. If you have been abused in any kind of relattionship you may like to visit my online ministry http://jesushealsabuse.informe.com to find mutual support from others who are also healing, or who have been healed from abusive relationships.

The poems on this page are included in my short anthology, FIREDANCE. You can download or buy the book from

MY ONLINE STORE

PROPHECY TO AN ABUSED CHILD

My child I see your pain.

I Identify.

Feel the wounds in my hands,

Nails in my feet.

See the scars of words

Spoken.

Lies made to crucify

Where I should have been most honoured,

Most loved.

Most protected,

Are in my heart too.

I wouldn't leave you now;

Not when I have been through all that

Man made suffering.

To be with you

Gives me a reason for my pain.

Have you not heard

That in my hour of need,

Even the closest left me?

Leaving

Only one gift.

A tear filled petition

To our Father in Heaven.

I felt as lonely

As you do now.

I wanted it to end and be over.

That is why I am here

You have a friend who understands

You have Me

And I will carry you

With understanding

You think nobody knows?

Nobody can, not really.

It is something you and I bear together,

Let me take the load

Put it down and let me pick it up

I am holding out my hand.

Take off your scars

Place them near the nail wounds

Let them become part of me.

I cried too.

Tears of blood

That is how painful it was.

Give me your tears.

I have a bottle ready to catch them

As they fall.

It is time to lose the pain.

I give you permission

To leave

Your situation.

I am calling you to peace.

This time

let me hold you.

Don't run back

You are allowed

To be at peace

RECYCLED ROSE

Like a crushed flower
Some kind of perfume released in the brokeness
of petals lying scattered
Knowing I was a flower seeking my healing
I lifted my hands asking
Will you heal me?

Gently he gathered me
Held each bruised petal in His hand
Heard the sweet breath of prayer
Touched me with His strong kiss of love
Restoring each wounded part

Today I opened my eyes again
And I looked at Him
I was in his hand
A new made rose



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